


show me slowly what i only know the limits of

by folignos



Category: Hockey RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:18:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3300662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folignos/pseuds/folignos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teemu wakes up in Boston with a clear head, and knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	show me slowly what i only know the limits of

**Author's Note:**

> i was talking to jenna about the possibility of concussions fucking with soulbonds, and obviously the obvious ship for this is paul and teemu.
> 
> i did a lot of research about concussions for this, and also a lot of research about paul kariya's concussions specifically. the nhl was (is) so fucked up about head injuries it honestly scares me a little.
> 
> jenna beta'd this because she's a hero
> 
> come follow me on [tumblr](http://toewses.tumblr.com) for more sadness and heartbreak!

Teemu wakes up in Boston with a clear head, and knows.

His phone buzzes on the side table.

_I'm done_ , it says. Teemu closes his eyes and ducks his head.

Outside, he can hear a bird. He can see perfectly, none of the blurred vision he's struggled with for months (not as much as Paul had struggled, he reminds himself). When he reaches out with his mind, it's like reaching into the sky, instead of sticking his hand into a thunderstorm, like it's been for months.

Paul is gone. Teemu picks up his phone again.

_I'm in Boston_ , he types, slowly. _Weird how these things work out, huh?_

His phone stays quiet the rest of the day.

-

Teemu meets Paul at the All Star Game in Boston, when he is young and quiet and scared. They shake hands and it's as if Teemu has turned up the volume on his television all if a sudden. Paul grins a shaky grin, and Teemu watches it hit him too.

His mouth opens in a soft oh of surprise. 'But--,' he says.

'Sorry kid,' Teemu says carefully. 'Looks like you're stuck with me.'

Paul opens his mouth again, and then Mario Lemieux skates past, and Teemu feels a thrill go through him from Paul.

'Guess we should talk about it, huh?' Paul says, looking back at Teemu slowly.

Teemu nods, slowly.

-

They talk about it in Paul’s hotel room over whiskey. Teemu crunches an ice cube and feels a wave of discomfort from Paul.

‘It makes my teeth feel cold,’ he says, when Teemu looks at him.

Teemu apologises, and takes a sip instead.

‘I’ve never bonded before,’ Paul says eventually. He’s gripping the tumbler so tight the plastic is creaking.

‘I have,’ Teemu offers. ‘Once. Back in Finland. It… did not stick.’ Teemu hasn’t thought about Viljami in almost eight years. Not since he left Jokerit.

‘So maybe neither will this one?’ Paul asks. Teemu can’t decide if he sounds hopeful or not.

Teemu shrugs. ‘No way of telling.’ He doesn’t tell Paul that this one already feels stronger than last time. More… intense. He can hear Paul’s brain ticking over as the whiskey sinks into  it slowly.

It feels like what his Aiti used to talk about, about how your soulmate is supposed to be part of you. It didn’t feel like that with Jami.

Teemu finishes his whiskey and goes back to his own room.

-

The game is. Interesting. He’s on a line with Paul, and it just feels. Seamless. Like they’ve been playing together for years.

The first time he hears Paul in his head shouting _i’m open i’m open pass to me_ , he does it automatically, doesn’t even think about it, and the puck goes from his stick to Paul’s to the back of the net.

He gets asked about it on the bench, Nick Lidstrom leaning over to ask how he even knew Paul was there. Teemu shrugs. ‘I heard him shouting, I guess.’

-

They swap numbers before getting back on their respective flights. Teemu waits for the distance to dull the bond, but it doesn’t.

Paul sleeps the entire plane ride home. He doesn’t dream of anything.

-

They don’t talk often. Not over the phone, anyway.

Paul experiments with the bond a lot. He talks through it, sends pictures, colours, sounds.

Teemu buys a book on soulbonds and reads it cover to cover. Everything he can find says it should be almost impossible to communicate if the two bondmates are as far away as Winnipeg and California.

Teemu thinks about Lemieux and Jagr in Pittsburgh and thinks that they fuckin’ lucked out.

-

He’s going through the monthly check-ups he’s required to, when he’s taken aside by the bond specialist.

‘When did you bond?’ she asks, looking at him sternly. Teemu wonders briefly if he can pretend he doesn’t speak English, but she narrows her eyes at him.

‘The All Star Game,’ he says, hesitantly.

‘And why did you not think it appropriate to tell the team?’ She’s making fierce notes in her notepad. Teemu makes a mental note to never cross her again.

He shrugs. She makes a sharp thinking sound and makes another note. ‘I _see_.’

Teemu does not see, but he keeps quiet. ‘Who?’ she asks, and Teemu balks.

‘I don’t know that--’

She levels him with a glare. ‘Who.’

‘Another player,’ Teemu says, reluctantly. He can feel Paul in the back of his head, quiet, but there. It’s still early morning in Anaheim, he’s probably just waking up. Paul pushes a question mark at him.

_nothing_ , Teemu pushes back, and smiles winningly at the specialist. She frowns, and makes another note. It’s not acceptable to register a player-player bond with the NHL unless both players give their permission.

He’ll need to talk to Paul about it eventually, but for now, he tells him to go back to sleep, pushes a wave of warmth and safe feelings at him. He feels Paul fade out, and zones back in on the specialist, who’s watching him carefully.

‘You’ll have to register it eventually,’ she says lightly.

Teemu nods. ‘Can I go?’ he asks, and she waves him off.

-

Teemu is traded to Anaheim twenty four hours after his bond is officially registered with the NHL. The media get ahold of it as soon as he steps off the plane at John Wayne.

Paul is waiting, with a sign that just has the number eight on it. Teemu smiles automatically, and embraces him. Paul digs his chin into Teemu’s shoulder and says _welcome to california_ without opening his mouth.

‘I hate it already,’ Teemu says, out loud, and laughs with Paul.

‘It’s not so bad,’ Paul says, taking one of Teemu’s bags and heading for the car with it. ‘Better weather than Winnipeg, at least.’

‘I’m Finnish,’ Teemu reminds him. ‘We melt if it gets too hot outside.’

Paul laughs, and Teemu follows him into the sun with the laughter reverberating down the bond.

-

Paul looks good with the C on his chest. Teemu buys him a beer and tells him he’s gonna be amazing. Paul grins up at him, young and excited. Teemu is half in love with him already.

-

Paul gets concussed a month into the season. Teemu feels it like a gunshot. The bond snaps shut, and he doubles over on the bench, clutches at his head.

Nausea rolls over him.

Paul walks off the ice, but only barely. Teemu follows him to the locker room.

‘The bond will probably come back in time,’ the specialist says.

‘You can’t rush it.’

‘He needs time to heal.’

Teemu listens to them all, but his head aches and the bond is spitting static at him and Paul is sitting next to him holding his hand so tight the bones of his knuckles are creaking.

‘I’m going to take Paul home,’ he says, simply.

-

The bond flutters while Paul is… ill. Teemu tries not to touch it. It sends aftershocks into the both of them when he pushes against it without thinking.

He wakes up one day in Paul’s spare bedroom and his head doesn’t hurt. He can feel Paul at the edge of the bond, sleepy and blurry, but _there_.

He wakes Paul up and watches him react to the bond.

‘Hey,’ he says, soft and slurred.

Teemu grins. ‘Welcome back.’

-

It happens again.

And again.

And again.

Four concussions over three seasons. Teemu is starting to forget what it’s like to wake up in the morning without nausea.

-

He gets better.

The bond bounces back, but. There’s a delay on it. A lag, almost. It takes Teemu a couple of seconds to reach Paul.

The connection is still clear as a bell, and Paul is healthy and playing and scoring and so Teemu chalks it up to an oddity. Something that will go away in time. They’re out of practice, is all.

-

Paul turns twenty four and Teemu kisses him in a hotel room in Vancouver, drunk and giggly with it.

Paul’s hands slot around his hips easily, and Teemu can feel him in his head, a mess of beer and lust and joy that makes Teemu smile into the kiss.

‘I’m so glad we bonded,’ Paul says as Teemu lowers him to the bed, presses dry, biting kisses in a line down his breastbone.

Teemu says nothing, mouthing at the line of his hipbone, and soon, Paul says nothing too.

-

San Jose is still California.

He can still hear Paul. He still has a house by the beach. He can still play.

But it’s not Anaheim. He gets on the ice every night and Paul is drowned out by the cheers.

The Sharks play the Ducks three weeks after the trade, one week after he makes his debut. His knee still aches. He and Paul get dinner before the game, and after the game, they go back to Paul’s house and fuck, quietly, closely. Teemu falls asleep with Paul’s head on his chest and his dream floating around Teemu’s head as he dozes.

Paul’s dreaming about the Stanley Cup. Teemu can’t not smile about it.

-

San Jose misses the playoffs. Anaheim goes all the way to the Finals.

Teemu is napping when it happens. He wakes up in Finland feeling like something has been dropped on his head.

_paul? paul!_

He can hear static, like a badly tuned television. There is a fine tremble in his hands.

It is eight pm in Vancouver. He calls Paul’s brother.

‘It looked bad,’ Steve says, voice tight with stress. ‘He’s back on the ice now.’

Teemu swears in Finnish. ‘He’s concussed,’ he says.

‘Yeah,’ Steve says dully. ‘I thought so.’

-

Paul is gone for a week.

Teemu watches him play Game Seven in silence. He wonders if the coaches know about Paul’s headaches. Or the separated shoulder.

_you’re an idiot_ , is the first thing Teemu says to him when he feels Paul open up again. He’s still blurry, but he’s _there,_ and Teemu can’t stop the small swell of emotion.

_it’s the cup_ , Paul says. _guys have played through worse_.

_guys don’t have your history_ , Teemu says.

_i’m leaving anaheim_ , Paul says, suddenly.

Teemu pauses. He knows his agent is in talks, trying to make a deal with Anaheim to come back. He wants to play with Paul. His contract is up. Nothing is keeping him with the Sharks.

_where are you going?_ he asks

_wherever will take both of us_ , he says, and Teemu smiles. He can feel Paul through the bond, a little shy, a little unsure, and he reaches out, pulls him in a little closer.

-

Playing in Colorado is… odd. New.

But he has Paul on his wing and really, he’s never needed anything else.

-

It lasts a year.

There is a lockout, and there is free agency.

Teemu goes to Finland, and then to Anaheim.

Paul goes to hospitals, and then to Nashville.

Anaheim welcomes him back with open arms, but he sleeps in an empty bed, and something is wrong with the bond.

Teemu guesses it’s the distance, though they never had this problem when he was in Finland.

He talks to the Anaheim bond specialist about it, ignores Paul’s grumbling in the back of his head. The specialist is unhelpful.

He takes Teemu’s blood, and runs some scans, but there’s really nothing he can do with Paul all the way in Tennessee. ‘Sometimes bonds fade with prolonged distance,’ is the best the specialist can give him.

Teemu nods and shakes his hand before leaving.

_you worry too much_ , Paul says. He’s slurring his words over the bond recently, like a bad telephone line. Sometimes Teemu misses entire words and sentences to crackling.

_maybe you don’t worry enough_ , Teemu says, weary. Paul says nothing to that. Teemu goes to the weight room and lifts until he’s too tired to think. Until he’s almost too tired to feel Paul, sitting quietly in the back of his head.

-

Teemu is tired of having headaches.

He can only imagine how Paul feels.

-

Teemu wins a Cup.

He skates around the ice for thirty seconds before remembering that Paul isn’t there with him.

Paul is in Vancouver radiating happiness at him.

_you deserve it_ , he says, when Teemu finally, finally lifts the Stanley Cup.

_you should be here_ , Teemu says.

-

Paul signs with St. Louis.

It’s closer, but not by much.

He’s still getting headaches. Every time Teemu tries to bring them up, Paul changes the subject.

-

Paul disappears for days at a time.

Teemu feels like he could still reach him when he does, like he’s just out of reach, stuck under the ice. Teemu can see him, but there’s a clear wall between them.

Paul always acts like nothing’s wrong when the bond opens up again. Teemu has stopped asking.

-

Teemu misses several weeks of the season from a sliced quad muscle. He flies out to St. Louis, and sleeps in Paul’s bed, eats Paul’s food, watches his games. Paul changes his dressings and kisses him slowly and they don’t talk about the headaches that Paul gets at night.

Teemu lies in bed at three am and listens to Paul throwing up, waits for him to come back to bed smelling like toothpaste and kisses him carefully on the jaw, throwing an arm over his stomach and wrapping around him like he can keep him safe.

-

His leg heals.

The bond is getting slower. Sluggish. When Teemu pushes at it, it’s like pushing at wet concrete.

Teemu goes back to Anaheim and leaves Paul asleep in his bed.

He doesn’t know when they stopped talking to each other out loud.

-

Teemu watches Paul’s final NHL game without knowing it.

He gets an assist on the only St. Louis goal. He’s eleven points short of a thousand. Paul scowls at him over the bond when they lose in the shootout. Teemu is in a hotel room in Chicago. It’s practically next door to Missouri. Paul is clearer than he’s felt in months.

(A week later, he’s gone. He doesn’t tell the league for a year.

The day after Paul announces his retirement, Teemu registers the broken bond with the Ducks.)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> one day maybe i'll write the mario/jagr soulbond fic. today is not that day.


End file.
